


Spots are better than scars

by RockNoir



Category: The Lion King (1994), The Lion King (2019)
Genre: Fluff, cat facts, lion facts, simba is just a big kitty, this is based off the 2019 remake, timon but he’s a dad and doesn’t realize it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 14:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19378525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockNoir/pseuds/RockNoir
Summary: This whole time, they just thought Simba was a very cuddly kid. They didn’t know it meant more.





	Spots are better than scars

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place right after the battle with scar, set in the “live action”/remake of the movie.
> 
> This is unedited, I apologize for mistakes.

Running for your life from hyenas is exhausting. Especially when there were so many of them. Left and right, in front and behind, everywhere Timon had turned, a hyena or two (or many) had seemed to occupy every inch of space.

Somewhere in the midst of the running, screaming, and narrowly avoiding being eaten, they’d lost sight of Simba.

“Last I saw him, he and Scar went over the cliff,” Nala says, pausing from where she was licking a scratch on her foreleg. Nothing super deep or anything that could cause permanent damage, hyenas has blunt claws, but still just enough to draw blood. The majority of her wounds were from bites, minor and hidden beneath her thick coat of fur.

“I saw him after that,” Pumbaa supplies, “They were getting awfully close to the fire.”

Timon can’t even recall when exactly he last saw the pair of lions, he was too busy trying not to be eaten or stepped on, given his small size.

“It’s great that we all remember where we last saw him, but where is he now?” Timon says, dramatic as ever. He motions toward the open mouth of Pride Rock’s cave, where they’ve decided to seek shelter from the pouring rain, which had slowed to a very light drizzle at this time, yet none of them could be bothered to exit the cave just yet. “Everybody’s in here except for him!”

“I’m right here.”

Simba appears in the entrance of the cave, mane dripping with water. He looks worn and tired, his fight being the worst of them all. There’s mud caked in to his mane from a particularly rough chin-plant in to a puddle, and blood streams from a few deep scratches in his hide, but he wants to let his friends know he’s safe. That he’s alive.

“You don’t look so good, kid.” Pumbaa says, looking Simba over from where he stands.

But it’s Nala who steps to him first, only stopping to let him shake the water off his fur before pressing her forehead to his. They take a long moment to brush their faces against each other, and she doesn’t seem to mind that he’s soaking wet and dripping with dirty water. Only that he’s alive.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” she says, giving his forehead a lick. “You…you are okay, right?”

“I’m okay.”

“And you’re alive!” Timon exclaims, finally catching the lion’s attention. He hardly has time to prepare himself before he’s suddenly being shoved in to the solid cave floor by the kid giving him a rough nudge with his snout.

He takes turns, alternating between Timon and Pumbaa, pressing his forehead against theirs and seemingly rubbing his face over every inch of theirs, over and over and over, Timon hardly has time to catch a breath in between, and only narrowly avoids being suffocated in Simba’s mane.

“Stop, kid! You’re gonna kill me!” He says, weakly pushing at Simba’s rough nose to get him away. Timon’s only so big—his own fur is dampened and dirty, from the water soaking and dripping off of Simba’s mane. When he finally stands up right again, using his tiny paws to brush a small bit of mud off his own fur, he fixes Simba with a glare. Not too stern, since he’s still relived that Simba is actually alive, but stern enough to let the young lion know he’s not fond of having mud in his fur. Or being nearly suffocated by Simba’s fur. The kids getting too big. He’s not the cute little cub they picked up in the desert anymore. “I swear. You only do that because you love to see me suffer.”

“Actually,” Nala says, pausing from where she’d began to lick the mud off her own paws, “He does that because he loves you. When we rub our faces on stuff, we’re saying ‘You are mine.’ We’re marking you with our scent because you belong with us, it makes you one of us, and we want everyone to know.”

“That’s adorable!” Pumbaa supplies, to which Simba looks away, a little embarrassed, but smirking.

“It’s a lion thing.” He mumbles.

“It’s okay, kid,” Timon says, making another attempt to hug Simba’s leg. He succeeds, standing on Simba’s large paw to give himself leverage. “We love you, too! Isn’t that right, Pumbaa!?”

Pumbaa’s already been reduced to soft tears, never strong enough to make it through an emotional moment without them.

“And another thing! I’m not a kid anymore,” Simba says, lifting his head, proudly, “I’m a king.”

He sounds more confident and sure of himself when he says this, and Timon can’t help but let out a snort of laughter.

“What? What’s so funny?”

“King or not, you’re hardly grown. You’ve even got a few spots, still.” And it was true. Although the mud that clung to the lion’s fur and the darkness of the cave completely masked the distinguishing markings on Simba’s body, Timon knew there were still spots that littered the fur of the lion’s belly and thighs. He also knew that as Simba got even older (and maybe even grew just a little more), the spots would fade away. 

All lion cubs were born with spots, Simba had explained it to them once after Timon had commented that he could be mistaken for a really hairy leopard, and as they got older, the spots went away.

But for now, he’d hold on to any bit of evidence that proved that the kid they’d rescued from a herd of hungry buzzards in the hot desert sun not too long ago hadn’t completely grown up.

**Author's Note:**

> The remake hasn’t been released at the time of me writing this so I can only loosely vase it off of events in the original and hope it ages well.
> 
> Cats have scent glands on their faces, which help them mark their scent on things. It’s why your cat rubs his/her face all over your hands and arms when you pet him/her. I’m unsure if lions have the same glands, but they do rub their heads together as a sign of greeting.
> 
> Lions are born with spots and other markings, as well as black fur on/around their ears. You can more or less tell a lion’s age by whether or not they have spots on their fur. Usually, the spots will go away when they reach adulthood, but may still be present on the belly, legs, and thighs of lion’s for the first couple of years of adulthood, especially in females.


End file.
